


Dirigibles and Broomsticks

by BladeoftheNebula



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU - Kiki’s Delivery Service, Alternate Universe - Magic, Bakery, Familiars, Humor, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Secondary Sam Wilson/James Rhodes, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28098285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladeoftheNebula/pseuds/BladeoftheNebula
Summary: Jarvis hopped up onto his shoulder, and Tony straddled the broom begging it to behave. “Thank you, everyone. See you in a year!”He launched off, feeling the magic flow through him and propel the broom into the air. As the lights of his village disappeared into the distance, Tony felt a surge of anticipation. This was his chance. He was going to show the world what his magic could do.Now all he had to do was find a town.Tony leaves home to hone his magic, as per the tradition for witches in training. However settling in and making a name for himself isn't as easy as it sounds, made all the worse by a misunderstanding with flying obsessed Steve Rogers who thinks Tony's a jerk.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 36
Kudos: 132





	Dirigibles and Broomsticks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Askafroa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askafroa/gifts).



> This is a (belated) gift for my dear Mairi ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I promised this a while a go and hope it's all you were dreaming of! 💖
> 
> Thank you to AvengersNewB for cheering, and Elwenyere and Mayamoksin for the beta 😘
> 
> This is inspired by Studio Ghibli's Kiki's Delivery Service, so if bits look familiar that's why!

* * *

* * *

“Clothes, check, toolbox, check, money…I think that’s it.” He looked around the room. “Jarvis, anything else?”

“No sir,” Jarvis replied from the bed, stretching his back in a long arch, his claws digging into the duvet to hold him in place. “You’ve been packed for a month. I hardly think anything would’ve moved.”

“Alright wise guy, then I guess we're set. Is your stuff packed?”

Jarvis jumped off the bed and trotted over to a small pile of items. “My collar for identification, my blanket for sleeping and of course, my squeaky mouse. All accounted for.”

“Awesome! Then I think we’re ready.”

Tony tucked Jarvis’ belongings into his rucksack and slipped the bag onto his back, feeling the weight and nodding. “We can fly with this, no problem.”

Jarvis scowled. “I wish your father would let us take one of your gadgets. I hate broom travel.”

Tony nodded. “I know. But you know how he is. ‘Witches use brooms: they’ve always used brooms! You don’t need that newfangled crap!’ Nevermind that my techmagic is more reliable and safer. Guess we’ll just use that wooden death trap. Hope we don’t plummet out of the sky,” he added, rolling his eyes. He caught sight of Jarvis looking nervous. “I’m joking. I’m sure we’ll be fine. It’s just going to be colder and less comfy.”

Jarvis huffed. “Well don’t. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Sorry J.” Tony leaned down, grabbing the small black cat in his arms. “I think we’re all set. Let’s head downstairs: everyone’s waiting.”

Sure enough, as he stepped into the living room he was greeted with excited chatter. His parents were there and all his parents’ friends and clients in the community. This was a big day for them. Their only son off to start his Witch’s Journey, a feather in their cap for sure. 

“Tony!” His mother called, looking proud. They might not always have gotten along as Tony wished, but witchcraft was the one thing that had allowed them to bond, that his mother understood about him in its entirety, and the times spent learning the craft from her were his favourite memories. “I can’t believe it’s time for you to go! It’s only yesterday you were charming flowers to grow in the back garden.”

He’d wanted to give her the flowers when she’d been sick with a cold, he remembered, as he stepped forward to hug her tight. “I can’t either.”

Tony was just glad they hadn’t decided to stick wholly to tradition. Back when his mother has done hers, it was done when a witch turned thirteen. But well, people had more concerns about child safety now than they had in the eighties, so it had become the norm to leave at the first full moon after your eighteenth birthday. To say Tony was ready to leave the nest was an understatement. 

His mother was known for her magic chemistry, and the whole village appreciated her apothecary. But Tony… well Tony was different. He had no real talent at potions, fortune-telling or communicating with loved ones who had passed on. Instead, he worked with machines. 

They made sense to him. The way they moved and every piece working together: it was like a language he knew inherently to speak. And his magic could make it even better. He could make things work on their own, he could repair appliances with a flick of his wrist and he could even make them fly. There was so much potential for his magic, but the people in his hometown weren’t used to this sort of thing. They liked the traditional practices, but he was sure that once he found his new town he could convince them it was useful. 

His father came over to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll do great son. Stick to the magic people like and you’ll be settled in no time. Supply and demand, that’s what makes you successful in business.”

“Sure dad,” Tony agreed, trying not to roll his eyes. His father wasn’t a witch, didn’t come from a witch family, but he always seemed to think he knew best. It came from his success, in fairness to him, of starting a witchcraft business that was well known in the community. It had been his parents’ pride and joy before he’d come along, his mother providing the know-how and skill, his father the business acumen. But running a magic shop didn’t make one a witch, and his dad always seemed to forget that. 

His father looked him over. “Must you insist on wearing your robe that way?”

Tony actually loved the traditional violet witch robes, but if his father thought he was wearing it while trying to fly a broom he was nuts. He had enough to focus on without freezing his ass off. Instead, he’d opted to modify it, wearing dark jeans and a jumper of nearly the same shade beneath the robes, which he wore open. With the hood back, it looked a lot like one of the hoodies he knew commoners his age wore, but much longer, coming down to his knees. 

“I like it,” his mother said, giving him a tearful wink. “Very modern.”

His father huffed but smiled. “Then I’ll say no more about it.”

After everyone had given him all the advice and their best wishes, they made their way out to the back garden. He didn’t have a broom of his own, too fond of using his own creation when he could get away with it, so his mother had given him one of hers, imbued with all the protection magic she could give it. 

“Now don’t rush, and don’t just pick any town. Make sure it seems right,” she told him, fussing over his hair and his bag. “Make sure to find somewhere to stay as soon as you can and don’t let people swindle you! Many a naive witch has had their money stolen by a commoner on their journey, and--”

“Mom, I know,” Tony told her. “I’ll be careful. I promise.” He hugged her, letting her squeeze him tight before he shook hands with his father.

“Good luck,” his dad said, and his voice sounded a little rough. “I know you’ll do us proud.”

“Thanks Dad.”

Jarvis hopped up onto his shoulder, and Tony straddled the broom begging it to behave. “Thank you, everyone. See you in a year!”

He launched off, feeling the magic flow through him and propel the broom into the air. As the lights of his village disappeared into the distance, Tony felt a surge of anticipation. This was his chance. He was going to show the world what his magic could do.

Now all he had to do was find a town.

* * *

To say the journey was stressful would be an understatement.

A storm had knocked them off course pretty early on, and it had taken all Tony’s skill to keep them in the air, Jarvis yowling in his ear and claws dug deep in his robe as he clung for dear life. They’d had to land while it was still dark, huddled in the hollow of a tree while the rain poured down and the wind screamed around them.

Tony was grateful for Jarvis’ warmth against his chest as they curled up, waiting for the morning light. 

When the rain finally stopped, they headed out again, making for the sea. Tony had only ever seen the sea once on a holiday as a kid, so he’d known that when he picked his town it would have to be on the coast. The idea of waking up every day to the beautiful blue water was high on his list.

“What about that one?” Jarvis offered, pointing a small paw at a part of the coastline that jutted out, creating a small harbour. Even from here, it looked perfectly picturesque.

Tony grinned. “That looks like just the place. Good spotting J.”

It wasn’t too big, it wasn’t too small, and when he landed near the edge of town Tony was delighted to see it was bustling and full of life. Yes, they could do well here. 

He wandered the streets, eyes trying to take everything in. He was so distracted, he knocked shoulders with someone. “Oh, I’m sorry, I--”

He was struck on the other side, nearly spinning around as the weight of his bag was caught in the pull of gravity. He was jostled as people moved past, seemingly uncaring that they were almost knocking him over. He flung himself to the side to escape the crowd and pressed himself up against the wall of an alley. 

“Well, there was no need for that!” Jarvis hissed, fur standing on end. “Of all the rude, insufferable-”

“It’s ok,” Tony told him, patting down the fur. “Life just moves a little faster here I guess. We’ll get used to it.”

Jarvis huffed. “I suppose. So what do we do now?”

“Mom always said the first step was to go to the town square and announce yourself as the new town witch. So I guess we do that, and I’m sure we’ll know exactly what we need to do. Perhaps when we meet the mayor I can make his car better, show off what I can do.”

Jarvis nodded. “Yes, that sounds like just the ticket. Now, where is the town square?”

Tony looked around until he caught sight of a clocktower. “There. That has to be it, come on.”

They stepped into the busy square, making their way to a fountain in the middle. Tony could feel butterflies in his stomach as he stepped up onto the lip of the fountain. “Hello!” he announced, as loud as he could, spreading his arms wide to show off his robes and the broom in his hand. “I have come to your city on my Witch’s Journey. I will be an asset to your town, and I bring my own form of spellwork: techmagic!” He waited, feeling the triumph of following the old traditions and making his mark flash through him. He was a proper witch, and he was going to--

\--be totally ignored by everyone in the square. No one even gave him more than a glance as he stood there, grinning like an idiot, holding a broom aloft. He waited a moment to see if it was just surprise holding them back, but it soon became clear it was not awe. It was disinterest, pure and simple. 

He stepped down feeling stupid. Why on earth had he listened to his mother? It had been thirty years since her own journey of course things had changed. He skulked away to the edge of the plaza, sitting down on a bench and trying not to panic. What was he supposed to do? He hadn’t heard of it being this difficult for other witches: usually, they showed up, and at the very least people were curious. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but eventually, his stomach began to grumble. 

“We need something to eat,” Jarvis said helpfully. “We’ve eaten what your mother packed.”

“I know,” Tony sighed. 

“And it’s the afternoon. It’ll be getting late soon, and where will we sleep?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we ought to think of a plan.”

“Yes I know!” Tony snapped, and then immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry Jarvis. I don’t mean to be a dick.”

“I know,” Jarvis told him, rubbing his furry head against Tony’s chin. “You’re under a lot of pressure. I understand. But come. Food first, then we’ll tackle the next problem.”

“You’re right. Let’s see what there is to eat in this town.”

They wandered the streets looking for a cafe or a supermarket. As they turned a corner, they passed an alley that Tony would’ve walked past without notice, if it weren’t for the thud and sound of metal hitting pavement. 

Tony turned his head and his eyes widened. There in the alley was a group of guys, three tall and one much shorter. Tony’s eyes caught on the shorter one who faced his way, face screwed up in determination. He was glaring at the other three, standing in front of what Tony could see was a bike lying on the ground and assumed was the source of the noise.

“Jesus Rogers, if you’d keep your head out of the clouds we wouldn’t be able to mess with you,” one remarked, tone mocking. “Think less about what’s up there and more about how dangerous it is for you on the ground.”

“Piss off Hodges,” the man said, scowl deepening. “And don’t touch my fucking bike.”

“We’ll do whatever we want, because we can, and you can’t do anything about it,” the second one said and leaned down to grab the bike. As he did, Rogers snapped, his fist striking out to hit the man and sending him stumbling backwards. “You little—“

All hell broke loose, the gang going for him and Rogers swinging desperately. Tony couldn’t do nothing — the guy would get beaten to a pulp. “Hey! Quit it!”

Hodges turned to look at him, fist drawn back and Rogers held by the shirt in his grip. “What do you want?”

“Let him go!”

“No.”

Well shit. Alright, plan B. He lifted his broom like a club and ran at them giving them no time to react. He swung it, hitting Hodges in the face, making him drop Rogers to the ground. Before he could retaliate, Tony thrust the other end of the broom at one of the others, the handle striking hard against his stomach and making him grunt. Then Tony took off running.

He knew they’d follow, and he felt a thrill of satisfaction as he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. He felt a hand tug at his robe for a moment before he put on the speed and got clear of them. He ran for a couple of blocks staying ahead, before he darted down a side street, straddling his broom and launching himself up and over the rooftops out of sight. He flew back towards the alley, landing near the entrance before spotting Rogers at the other end. He jogged after him, broom over his shoulder till he could step in front of him. 

Rogers’ eye was starting to swell, clearly they’d gotten in one good shot before Tony intervened. He looked surprised to see Tony there. “Um hi?”

“Hi,” Tony said, smiling at him. He was cute, Tony decided, and clearly brave given he was ready to fight those three bullies. “Are you ok?”

“Huh? Oh.” His hand came up to brush gingerly against the bruise. “Yeah don’t worry. I’ve had worse.”

Tony winced. “Ouch.”

The guy smiled, looking a little embarrassed. He had a pretty smile, Tony thought. “I don’t like bullies, and bullies don’t like it when you mouth off at them.”

“You fight pretty good for a commoner,” Tony told him, and he meant it. The guy was tiny, and no muscle to speak of except his thighs which Tony assumed was the result of the bike. The fact that he managed not to be beaten to a pulp was pretty impressive.

The guy’s expression turned dark. “What did you say?”

Tony quirked a brow in confusion. “I said I was impressed you held your own. Those dudes were big.”

“Not that. That word.”

Tony frowned. It was the standard phrase for non-magic folk all over as far as he knew. “Commoner? It’s just--”

“Are you like some rich dick who thinks you’re better than everyone? Is that it? Like a little lord or something?”

Well, his family _was_ rich but Tony felt that was a stretch. “That’s not--”

“Forget it,” the guy snapped, picking up his bike. “I get enough shit from those guys. I don’t need it from some guy in an oversized hoodie.” 

Tony huffed. What was this guy’s problem? He opened his mouth to yell back, but he’d already climbed on his bike and was peddling off at high speed. Whatever. This is what Tony got for helping people.

He took off down the street, looking for somewhere to eat, before he spotted a bakery. It was cute, fresh bread in the window and an array of fancy pastries and cakes that had Tony’s mouth-watering. “Let’s try in there.”

They pushed open the door, a little bell ringing overhead. The shop was bustling, a few customers lined up while a man with a friendly smile greeted and served them. It was much friendlier than the town had been so far, and Tony found himself relaxing for the first time since they’d arrived. The smell of fresh bread and sugar was on the air, and he breathed in deep, the delicious smell making his stomach grumble. 

He looked at the options, deciding a loaf of bread and some of the preserves in the bottom of the cabinet might be a good bet and grabbing a sausage roll for Jarvis so he could have the meat inside. When he reached the front of the queue, the man behind the counter smiled. “What can I get you?”

Tony recited his order, and when he was told the total, reached into the pocket of his robe for his money. All his fingers brushed up against was the inside of his robe. He frowned, digging more desperately. He switched pockets, checked his jeans and dug through his bag. Then he froze. The hand on his robe during the chase. Fuck, his wallet must’ve fallen free. Oh god. He had no money. 

He stared up at the man in a panic, whose expression turned concerned. “Are you ok?”

Tony opened his mouth to answer when there was a shout from the back. The man smiled again, holding up a finger. “Sorry, just a minute.”

He disappeared into the back, as Tony looked at Jarvis. “We have no money.”

“What?”

“I must’ve dropped it when we were running. We’ve got nothing. What are we going to do? That was our emergency hotel money too. Where are we going to sleep?” He could feel his chest starting to tighten with panic.

Jarvis mewed in worry, but before Tony could do anything, he heard loud talking from in the back of the shop. He leaned to get a look down the passage, his curiosity piqued. 

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The oven just died. I can’t get it going.”

“Shit, really? We still have rolls to do for the evening rush. What are we going to do?”

Panic forgotten for a moment, Tony poked his head around the corner, looking at the man who had served him bent over to inspect a large oven, while another guy stood by looking stressed and holding a tray of unbaked dough. 

“Rhodey, I still have that cake to bake for tomorrow. If it’s not done tonight I can’t ice it in the morning, and they need it for the party.”

“I know, I know,” the one called Rhodey said, biting his thumb. “We called the repair guy, but who knows when he’ll get here.”

“Fuck, we’re fucked.”

Tony decided enough was enough. He stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Umm, I can help?”

Rhodey looked at him. “That’s ok. We’re fine but thanks kid.”

Tony scowled. “No, really I can. I’m a witch.”

Rhodey looked at him again. “Don’t witches wear robes?”

“Oh for -- these are my robes, see? And I have a cat!” he brandished Jarvis wildly, who obligingly meowed in greeting.

“Huh, what about that.”

“Not sure how you can help us though,” the other man said, raising an eyebrow. “This isn’t really something that can be fixed with potions.”

Tony shook his head. “Not really my thing. But fuses? Gears? That’s where I shine.”

Rhodey looked at the other man who shrugged. “I’m fine if he wants to try.”

Rhodey huffed. “Alright kid, give it a shot.”

Tony held out his hand to shake. “Tony.”

Rhodey smiled. “James Rhodes. Rhodey. And this is Sam.”

“Let’s see if you can get these buns toasted,” Sam said with a snort, and Tony laughed as he rolled up his sleeves to get to work. Finally, he could be of use.

* * *

“Holy shit, it runs like a dream,” Sam told him looking impressed. “It took like thirty seconds to get to baking temp.”

Tony grinned and wiggled his fingers. “It’s magic.”

Sam snorted. “Oh right.” He slid the buns into the oven and closed it, putting the oven mitts to the side. 

Rhodey came in from out in front. “We’ve hit a lull. How’s it looking in here?”

“All done. You shouldn’t have any problems with it now, but if you do I can come back, tweak the spellwork.”

“That’s great! Thanks. Oh here,” he handed Tony a piece of bread with jam in a napkin and went to the fridge. He took out some raw meat and put a bit on a plate for Jarvis who ran over to eat with enthusiasm. “Hungry little guy, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a long day,” Tony agreed, tucking into his bread and groaning as the sweet jam hit his tongue. So good.

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. “When did you two last have something to eat?”

“Yesterday.” Tony wasn’t paying much attention to anything that wasn’t the fresh bread he was holding, but he saw Rhodey and Sam exchange a look he couldn’t decipher. 

“So,” Rhodey pulled up a chair. “You’re new to town?”

Tony nodded. “It’s my Witch’s Journey.”

“What’s a Witch’s Journey?”

Tony began to explain, taking more bread as Rhodey put it in front of him. He started with witch tradition, told him about their flight over, and then it wasn’t long before the words spilled out, telling them about how he’d lost their money and he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Woah, ok, sounds like a lot,” Rhodey said, expression soft with sympathy. “And a lot for an eighteen-year-old on his own for the first time.”

“It’s what witches do,” Tony shrugged, petting Jarvis when he jumped onto his shoulder to comfort him. “And I can’t call home. Then I’ll have to tell them it’s only day one in my new town and I’m already failing.”

“Hmmm well. I mean you fixed up our oven really well with that magic of yours, and I can’t say I’ve ever heard of a witch doing that. It’s something special.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You know I bet people would pay for you to keep their machines working. You could start up a pretty good business.”

“That would be nice,” Tony admitted. “But it doesn't really help me now. I haven’t got anywhere to live.” He blinked back the tears, trying not to show he was crying. He was an adult now, dammit. 

“About that,” Sam said, coming over from where he was icing some fresh pastries. He slid into the chair next to Rhodey. “You could stay with us.”

“Huh?”

“We have a spare room out there.” He pointed to a building out in the backyard. “Bottom floor is bakery storage but the top floor is empty. There’s some spare furniture up there we could clean up for you, including a bed.”

“Really? You’d let me stay?”

“Yeah, you helped us, we can help you. And in return, if you want you can help us in the bakery until you start getting some magic clients of your own. Seem fair?”

“Yes! Please!”

Both men smiled. Rhodey clapped him on the shoulder. “Perfect. Tell you what, Sam can watch the counter for a bit while you and I go look over your room, and then you can give me a hand with the evening rush till dinner.”

“I can’t pay for dinner eith--”

“Don’t sweat it. We can spare some extra food. I promise. Now, let’s go.”

* * *

The storage attic was pretty basic. There was an old double bed with an elaborate metal frame, a small table and two chairs, a stool he could use as a bedside table, a little inner stairwell down to an outdoor sink and toilet, and a large old tub that Tony could fill and heat with magic for washing. 

It was in desperate need of a clean, so Rhodey and Sam had offered him the couch for the first night. Tony barely had the time to appreciate the softness of the cushions before he had dropped off, sleeping soundly till the sun came up, the soft light flitting through the curtains.

He and Jarvis had set to work after breakfast. He swept out the dust and dirt, mopped the floors, and made the bed with fresh linens. He cheated a little as well, using a few of his mother’s best cleaning spells to clean the curtains and remove all the spiders from the nooks and crannies in the ceiling. 

When they were done, the room was spartan but tidy, and Tony flopped onto the bed feeling a sense of accomplishment. He let himself have ten minutes, just letting the feeling wash over him, Jarvis curled up for a short cat nap on his chest, before he pushed himself up and went to help in the bakery. He was going to pull his weight and make sure they knew how grateful he was if it killed him.

“Hey,” Sam greeted as Tony poked his head in the kitchen door. “How’s the room?”

“It’s great,” Tony told him honestly. “I really appreciate you guys helping me out.”

“It’s no trouble. My husband’s an old softy. There was no way he was letting you leave here without making sure you had somewhere to go.” He smiled, and Tony felt himself return it. 

“How can I help?”

Sam directed him to some buns that needed icing, and Tony dutifully covered them carefully with the thick sugary syrup.

“How did you and Rhodey meet?” 

“We met overseas,” Sam explained, kneading bread with strong, repetitive movements. “He and I both served in the same squadron. We became friends, then we became more, and then when our tour was over we decided we’d seen enough death and destruction, and we wanted to do something...kinder, build a life together.”

Clearly Rhodey wasn’t the only soft one, Tony thought, and told him so, making Sam chuckle. “Hey don’t forget, I was also trained to kill, and I can fly fighter jets.”

“Pfffft,” Tony told him with a grin. “So could I, with the right spell.”

“True enough.” Sam grabbed a tray of bread. “Can you take that out front? I bet we’re due a restock.”

“Can do.” Tony took the bread out to the front of the shop, slotting it into the baskets, the heavenly smell filling the air anew.

“Ah, my new apprentice,” Rhodey announced, looking pleased. “Already stacking his first loaves. I’m so proud.” He pretended to wipe a tear and Tony laughed, relieved with how easy both men made it for him to slot into their life. “How about I show you how to work the till?”

Rhodey began to teach him, but only got thirty seconds in, before the till began to add on its own, opening itself for cash and printing the receipt. Rhodey raised an eyebrow.

Tony looked sheepish. “Uhhh I made it automatic? If you address it by name it’ll listen to the order and process it for you.”

“And what’s its name?”

“Oh, uh, hmmm, how about...Friday?”

“Friday?”

The till chirped in agreement.

“Ah Friday,” Rhodey said, sounding more sure. “Perfect name.”

“The magic might need refreshing from time to time, so I’ll make sure I do upkeep though. Don’t worry.”

“Can you do that with anything?”

“Anything mechanical. I can usually at least give it a boost, make it work smoothly, that kind of thing.”

Rhodey rubbed a hand over his chin. “You know, people would probably pay for that. Plenty of folks have cars that break down, appliances that don’t work like they used to. You could charge for the initial spell and charge for regular strengthening.”

Tony stared. “You really think so?”

“Sure. Might take time to get people to trust it, but you just need a few customers to get you started and spread it through word of mouth.”

“That would be— wow, I guess I hadn’t really thought about how I would use my specialty, just that I wanted to. But I could make a business out of it?”

“Won’t know till you try. We’ll keep an ear out. See if anyone needs help.”

It was a start, and it made Tony feel less hopeless. He helped Rhodey for the rest of the day, greeting customers and trying not to flush as Rhodey talked him up and showed off the new magic till. Near the end of the day people were clearly talking about it in the town, as there was a long queue of nosey people lining up (and thankfully buying bread and pastries as well) up until closing. 

Rhodey laughed as they closed the door. “Holy shit. I think we sold double the day’s usual takings. Trust me when I say you don’t have to worry about paying any kind of board.”

Tony flopped onto a stool with a huff. “I don’t think I’ve worked this hard in my life. Dad’s shop had more orders and pickups when I did shifts there.”

“Well you did good. Ten out of ten: would let you bewitch my till again.”

Tony snorted and opened his mouth to joke back, when he caught movement out the corner of the eye. There was a face peering in the window, lit by the warm glow of the bakery in the growing dark of the evening. Rhodey caught his look and turned to see, smiling wide as he did. “Oh, Steve!”

Tony watched curiously as Rhodey walked to the door, unlocking it and letting in— oh! The guy from yesterday, the one who had stormed off when Tony had helped him out. Tony could feel the scowl spreading over his face as the man stepped inside. 

“Hey Rhodey,” _Steve_ said looking around the room. “Sorry to come after closing but I heard you had a magic till or something?” He clearly missed Tony tucked in the corner, his gaze circling in on the till.

“You heard right! Here, look.”

Rhodey asked Friday politely to open the drawer, and the till did so, dinging happily. Steve’s eyes widened. 

“Oh wow that’s so cool.”

“It’s all thanks to Tony here,” Rhodey said, and gestured where Tony was sitting and Steve frowned. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

“You two have met?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah I helped him out yesterday and he was a jerk.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “I was the jerk? You were the one who stepped in to ‘help’ and then used it as an opportunity to insult me.”

“It wasn’t an insult!”

“What else could it mean?!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough. Seems like you two have had a rocky start. Steve, Tony’s new to town. Maybe you misunderstood. He’s a witch.”

“A witch?” Steve looked interested then, and that made Tony madder. So it was ok to be rude to him, but if he was a witch he deserved basic human decency? No thank you.

“If you’re a witch, does that mean you can fly?” Steve asked, clearly not noticing Tony’s growing ire. “I heard witches can fly.”

“Yes we can,” Tony told him snippily. He felt Jarvis’ paw on his ankle, a gentle reminder to mind his manners. 

“Can I see?”

“No you can’t. I don’t perform tricks for commoners who can’t even be polite to people who stop them from getting their head bashed in. I’m going to help Sam.”

He stuck his nose in the air and grabbed two of the empty trays and slipped out into the kitchen. He could hear the low murmur of Rhodey talking to Steve as he left but he ignored it. Good riddance.

* * *

When they sat down to dinner, Tony was still feeling irked.

“Hey, quit being so grumpy,” Rhodey admonished. “Clearly you and Steve didn’t meet on the best of terms, but I promise he’s nice.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Tony grumbled. He saw Sam and Rhodey exchange looks.

“Steve just has…a bit of a chip on his shoulder is all. He was always to do what we did, enlist and fly, but his health problems meant he couldn’t. So, he’s always been a bit? tetchy. A lot of the guys around here give him a tough time too, so he’s got a bit of a short fuse if he thinks someone’s picking on him. It’s not personal.” 

“Felt personal,” Tony said, around a forkful of pasta. 

“Well it probably didn’t help that you called him, what was it, a commoner?”

“Ok that I don’t get!” Tony told them, gesturing with his fork. “I just meant he’s not a witch. That’s what we call non-magic folk. It’s not like, an insult.”

Rhodey slumped in relief. “Well ok then. Seems like what we have here is just a culture clash. Easy fix.”

Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to fix it, but before he could say so, Sam nodded.

“Exactly. And trust me, Stevie is going to love that you can fly. Trust me. He loves flying and he’s always wanted to. You know that airship down by the port? You must’ve seen it when you flew in. He’s _obsessed_.”

Tony thought back. He had seen something when they came in, something large and white near the water, but he hadn’t given much thought to it. 

“An airship?” Now that was interesting. Not that Tony couldn’t already make things fly if he wanted to, but he’d be interested in getting a look at it, all those gears and inner workings. He felt that perhaps it was best not to mention the ‘make things fly’ bit. He had a feeling if he did they’d make him show Steve, and he didn’t want to say no to them after how kind they’d been, but he certainly didn’t want to do Steve any favours. 

“One of the first of its kind. It’s a step up from our planes — that’s for sure.”

Perhaps Tony would take a walk tomorrow. Go and see this airship for himself. 

* * *

He flew down to the port looking at the huge white behemoth. It was impressive alright. 

It just had such gravitas, and a kind of elegance that planes just didn’t have. He could see why the town was so excited. 

As he walked along, broom over his shoulder, he could see people eating their lunch and hanging out on the grass. Clearly it was enough of a crowd pleaser that people were flocking to it.

As he got closer, he caught the back of an oddly familiar blond head. He stiffened. He had no interest in having it out with Rogers, though he should’ve known he’d be here given what Rhodey and Sam said. He turned, trying to slip away quietly, but Rogers must’ve caught sight of him out the corner of his eye because he turned, leaping up.

“Tony!”

Absolutely not, Tony thought, and started walking off, looking forward and ignoring the calls behind him. As he heard Steve get closer, he mounted his broom and launched himself up into the air.

As he snuck a glance back, he could see Rogers getting smaller and smaller as he rose, his face lit with awe. 

Tony huffed. If Rogers was only going to be friendly once he knew Tony was a witch, he had another thing coming. 

* * *

“Tony! You’ve got a guest!”

Tony poked his head out of the attic window, spotting Sam doing the same from the kitchen. “What?”

“A guest! Someone here to see you.”

“Oh do they want a spell?”

“Not a client, a guest. Come down. They’re in the sitting room.” Then he closed the window behind him.

Curious, Tony thought. He dressed, pulling on his robes and styling his hair, before heading down the stairs and into the big house. He was enveloped by the familiar smell of freshly baked bread and sugar as he stepped inside, trailing through to the sitting room before coming to a stop.

“Um hi,” Steve said with a small wave. He was wearing a warm-looking cardigan, well-fitting jeans, and a thick pair of glasses. He looked, well, he looked nice. And seeing him not scowling at Tony reminded him of how cute he’d thought Steve was when they met. 

“Hi?” Tony offered. He wasn’t sure what was happening here, but it felt like a trap. 

“So Sam told me that maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m a bit of a hothead, so I’m sorry I went off on you before you could explain.”

“I guess I’m sorry that I didn’t explain what I meant and it upset you,” Tony offered, feeling magnanimous. “I didn't know.”

“Yeah, Sam said. It’s ok.”

Apologies done, they stood there awkwardly until Jarvis darted out of the kitchen and up onto Steve’s lap. 

Tony’s eyebrows raised. He wasn’t usually that friendly with new people. He watched as Steve grinned in delight, petting Jarvis with a firm hand.

“He seems genuinely sorry,” Jarvis said, though Tony knew Steve only heard a meow. 

“What’s this guy’s name?” Steve asked, looking up at Tony.

“Jarvis. He’s my familiar.”

“He’s great,” Steve said, and Jarvis purred, the traitor. 

“Sure, yeah. Why are you here?” Tony asked bluntly. Who was this guy to come here and seduce his familiar? Honestly. 

“I came to invite you to a party,” Steve said, peeking up at him over the rims of his glasses. “My friend Bucky is having a get together and I thought you might like to come.”

Tony’s eyebrows went up. “A party? Me?”

The only things he got invited to were Stark Magics events or the houses of witch kids from other families, who invited him to try and get the free witchcraft supplies his father always sent with him. He didn’t think he’d ever been invited to a party just for the sake of it. It had always just been him and Jarvis.

“Yeah, if you want to come? It’ll be fun.”

“Uhhhh—“

“He’d love to!” Sam’s voice behind him said, a hand clapping down on his shoulder. Tony looked at him, betrayed, even as Steve grinned wide. 

“Great! I’ll come pick you up at 7!” He put Jarvis down gently on the ground, and headed for the door. “See you tonight!”

“No, wait I—“

But Steve had disappeared out the front of the bakery, and out of sight.

“What did you do that for?” He whined at Sam, who looked pleased with himself. “I can’t go to a party. I don’t have anything to wear, and I don’t know anyone.”

“This is how you get to know people,” Sam offered cheerfully, petting Jarvis who had wrapped around his ankle. “And wear your witch robe, it’ll make a good talking point.”

Tony scowled. “Steve only wants to talk to me because he’s obsessed with flying. You said so yourself.”

“I said he’d be excited, not that it’s the only reason.”

“It may as well be,” Tony muttered. Then they both turned as they heard the bell above the bakery door. “I got it.”

It turned out not to be someone looking for their morning croissant, but a client _for Tony_.

“Of course!” He answered way too loud. The job sounded easy enough. The man, a farmer named Mr Barton, had a tractor that was running poorly and he’d heard Tony could work wonders. “I am going to nail this. I swear. Your tractor is going to be the smoothest ride in the state. When would you like me to come?”

“This afternoon, here’s the address.”

They agreed on a decent rate, with a generous tip should the work be completed to the farmer’s satisfaction. Tony managed to wait until he’d left before hopping around in excitement. 

It was like he was walking on air all morning and nothing could dampen his mood. Not even when Steve had cycled past, giving him a wave and Tony had dropped the loaf he’d been handing to a customer, his face flushing red. 

In the afternoon he grabbed his broom, Jarvis burrowing into his robes, and flew out over the city, out into the rolling green hills. It was beautiful out here, the smell of grass heavy on the air. 

He came in to land in a field next to an old wooden farmhouse, feeling the familiarity of the country wrapping around him. He’d forgotten how quiet home was compared to the bustling city, and the sudden silence felt like a breath of fresh air. Actually, so did the literal breath he took: no smog from cars or stagnant water from the sewers, just grass and the faint smell of rain. He looked where there were dark clouds gathering in the distance. Hopefully he’d be fast enough to miss those on the way home.

He heard the bang of a door and turned to see Mr Barton heading his way. He waved politely, walking to meet him at the gate.

“Glad you found the place,” Mr Barton said with a wide grin as he swung the heavy gate open to let him through. “Worried you might fly too far, end up two farms over.”

“I had a map,” Tony told him, waving it in his hand. “It wasn’t too hard to find.”

Mr Barton walked him over to a shed where the tractor sat, big and unmoving. Tony could almost feel the thing suffering, his magic already stretching out, wanting to help. He let the tendrils flow out, inspecting the gears and tapping parts that needed the most love.

“I can fix it,” he announced to Mr Barton, who grinned, looking pleased. 

“Good to hear! I need this thing up and running as soon as possible.”

Tony rolled up the sleeves of his robes. “Then I’d better get to work.”

The spellwork itself didn’t take much. Most of his time was spent exploring the machine with his magic, finding all the parts he needed to tweak and reinforcing weak spots. The magic flowed from him into the tractor, and soon he could feel it getting stronger, the magic pulsing like a heartbeat. A bit more, just needed to-- there!

The tractor roared to life, causing a chicken to squawk and flap away, making Mr Barton laugh.

“Holy shit,” the farmer said, brushing his hands through his hair and dislodging his hat. “I mean don’t get me wrong: I believed you could do it, but seeing it actually happen is something else.”

Tony wiped the sweat from his brow. “It should work now. Better actually.”

Mr Barton, “call me Clint,” let him ride up top when they tested it, and ended up taking him on a tour around the farm. He wasn’t much older than Tony, and it turned out they had a very similar sense of humour. 

Clint’s wife Laura had eventually waved them inside, offering tea and snacks. She’d grown up in a town not far from Tony’s, as it turned out, so he’d lost track of time swapping stories with her. It was nice, really nice. It made him feel like he was at home, but somehow nicer, since it felt like he really was a full-grown witch, out seeing clients and making friends in his new town.

“It must be tough,” Laura said, handing him a piece of cake. “Coming all this way on your own. I hope you’ve made some friends here at least.”

Tony nodded. “Rhodey and Sam have been great, letting me stay. Otherwise Jarvis and I would be living a box somewhere, offering spells for bread or something.”

“Well I’m glad it didn’t come to that,” Laura told him, looking concerned. “Surely your parents would’ve helped?”

Tony bit his lip. “It’s not that they wouldn’t have. It’s just...it would’ve been a failure, you know? Witches are meant to be able to do this on their own, and if I’d screwed up on the first day it would’ve been embarrassing. I think my mom would’ve been ok with it, but my dad? He runs one of the most prominent magic suppliers in the community. If everyone found out I needed help, he would’ve been really disappointed.”

Laura nodded, sipping from her mug. “It can be hard when you have other people’s expectations on your shoulders. If you had needed help that would’ve been ok no matter what your dad said, but I’m glad that you managed to do it on your own anyway so you didn’t have to deal with it.”

Tony snorted. “Hardly. I’m just lucky Sam and Rhodey were so nice--”

“They were very kind,” Laura cut in. “It was great of them to offer their home to you, but don’t forget you made your own luck. You fixed the oven, and it gave you an opportunity. Don’t undersell yourself.”

Tony flushed behind his mug, looking around the room. His eyes caught on the clock and snapped wide. “Is that the time?”

Laura looked up. “Oh yes I suppose it’s getting late. We’d better get you home.”

Tony took his fee, tucking it into his pocket along with the little box of cookies Laura gave him, making him promise to visit again to return the container with a wink.

The clouds rumbled overhead as he straddled the broom and Tony winced. Was his entire witches journey to be plagued by rain whenever he flew?

Jarvis hopped into his inner pocket. “Staying won’t help. We can only try to beat it.”

“I know,” Tony agreed. He turned back to Laura and Clint who were standing on the porch. “Thanks for the tea. I’ll make a note of the date, and I can strengthen the spell again in a few months.”

Clint grinned. “Thank you. She runs like a charm. I can’t wait to show her off to the neighbours.” He looked up at the sky worriedly. “You sure you should be flying? You could stay here tonight if it’s dangerous. We have a spare room.”

Tony shook his head. “I have a thing tonight, but thank you.”

“Fly safe.”

Tony nodded, then channeling the magic through him launched the broom into the air and shot off. 

There was no time for style, just speed, but even as he flew back towards the lights of the town, he could smell the heavy scent of the rain and feel the chill at his back. It wasn’t long before he felt the first splash on the back of his neck, and then it came flooding down. 

The rain soaked through his clothes in minutes, and not long after, visibility got bad. He could barely see the end of his broom, but he could see just a hint of lights and so steered towards it. He could feel Jarvis’ claws digging into his side as the cat shook from the damp. 

They had to get home. It was getting dangerous. And for some reason, Tony couldn’t help but see Steve’s hopeful face in his mind, waiting for him outside the bakery for the party. He was going to think Tony stood him up on purpose and that...didn’t feel good. 

The moment of distraction was just enough for Tony to miss the gust of wind, only realising after it hit, spinning them off course. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Tony muttered as he tried to bring the broom under control, the city was becoming more obvious now as they plummeted, rain soaked and heavy, and Tony leaned, trying to send them to a safe spot. He could see the slight rise of the hill the bakery was on and aimed for it. He pulled up hard to slow their speed as they got near, and the shift in force sent them spinning. Tony grabbed Jarvis and tucked him safely into the cage of his arms and closed his eyes as they braced for impact. 

Pain shot through his thigh and hip as they hit the ground, but by some luck the earth had absorbed enough of the rain to become soft, creating enough give that they slid through the mud, coming to a halt as they hit the back fence.

“Ow,” Jarvis meeped from somewhere around his chest, though Tony knew he’d been protected from the fall. “That could’ve gone better.”

“You can say that again,’” Tony agreed. He pushed himself up, the mud squelching beneath him. He was filthy, and cold, and soaked to his skin and his broom was…

Oh.

His broom was snapped in half, the bristles clogged with dirt, and when he reached out with his magic, there was no beat. 

“Oh no,” he managed, voice almost a whisper. “Jarvis…”

Jarvis placed a paw on his wrist. “It’s ok. We can get a new one. What’s important is it’s the broom not your leg.”

Tony picked up the other piece, unable to feel anything but despair, though he knew he should be grateful this was the worst of it. He considered walking around to the front of the bakery but the idea of having to face anyone felt like too much, so instead he jumped the fence and made his way up to his room unnoticed.

He stripped off, dragging out the small heater Sam had left him, sending a tendril of magic to give it a safe boost. He hung up his clothes to dry, noticing now the huge bruise on his hip, and his head started to ache from the chattering of his teeth. He crawled beneath the big heavy duvet on his bed. 

He thought again about Steve, wondering how long he’d waited. Probably not long —

Tony was sure he’d only been trying to be polite. He looked over at his wet clothes. He was in no state to go to a party anyway, so there was no point wallowing. Instead, he let his exhaustion take over as the room warmed up and fell asleep.

* * *

Rhodey came by the next morning to check on him, dismayed at his broom and checking him over for more serious injuries. Tony accepted the attention, refusing to acknowledge that it felt nice to have someone fussing over him.

Rhodey also shared that Steve had apparently waited for more than an hour and a half before he accepted Tony wasn’t coming. Tony felt oddly guilty, though he couldn’t have helped it. 

Word of his success at the Barton farm spread, however, and Tony found himself inundated with requests. He filled his schedule quickly, heading out early in the morning and coming home late in the evening, with any free time spent helping in the bakery.

It was tough without a broom, adding to his travel time for each job, but he made it work. He was exhausted, but it felt good, like he was achieving something. He fell into bed each day after dinner was shoved into him by Sam, who seemed more and more concerned each day, but Tony couldn’t stop. Not now he had momentum, and he was showing off his skills. 

He fixed kitchen appliances, cars, toys, industrial machinery -- on anything mechanical, he used his magic touch, much to the delight of the townsfolk. 

He couldn’t keep up the pace forever though. Eventually, his body made the decision for him one afternoon as he was helping out at the bakery. 

He’d been carrying a tray of cookies to add to the baking case when his vision got a bit spotty. He blinked, trying to clear it, but as he did, the world seemed to tilt sideways somehow. It felt like his feet weren’t touching the ground like they should, but before he could finish that thought, his shoulder hit the wall of the hallway, and he saw the ground rushing up to meet him.

“I told you he was pushing himself too much!”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t. I said we had to let him find his own limit.”

“Well I’d say he did, wouldn’t you?”

Tony opened his eyes to the sound of voices above him and saw two stressed-looking bakers standing over him.

“Tones, you ok? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Tony blinked to focus on where both of Rhodey’s hands were on his shoulders. “None?”

“Oh right.”

“Come on, up you get.” Tony was pulled to his feet and guided to the couch. Sam brought him some water, and he sipped it slowly, trying to piece together what happened. 

“I’m putting my foot down,” Rhodey told him sternly. “You need a break. Ms. Van Dyne’s sewing machine can wait.”

“But I can’t stop now,” Tony protested, almost dropping his glass. “I’m finally starting to build up clients!”

“If you don’t, you’re going to be hit by a car or something because you’re too tired to look both ways. You need a break.”

“I can’t, I--”

“How about a compromise?” Sam interjected. “You could do a job for us?”

Rhodey shot a glare at him. “No, he needs to--”

“I need a job done. Tony said he’d help out at the bakery, so he can do this for me right?” Sam raised a brow at them both questioningly. 

Tony felt a spike of guilt. He’d been so busy, his hours in the bakery had been few and far between, even though they’d both given him a roof over his head. “I can do it!”

“Are you sure?” Rhodey asked worriedly. “I think you’d be better off with a nap.”

Tony shook his head. “No I can. I swear.”

“Great! Let me put the order together and write down the address.”

Rhodey made him stay put until Sam returned, watching him eat a bowl of oatmeal before he was allowed to leave. 

Tony hated to admit it but it made him feel better, and he left the shop not long after, his belly full and his mind finally quiet. He followed the directions, carrying the covered basket and wishing not for the first time that he had his broom. Being a grounded witch was tiring, on top of being embarrassing. 

He wandered the backstreets of the town, letting himself actually look. He’d been so harried lately that he’d forgotten to really stop and get to know the city.

He walked, his hand trailing over garden walls, and breathing the salty air as he got ever closer to the coast. He counted down the numbers on the mail boxes, arriving at the address on the envelope he held as the street opened up to a wide view of the sea. 

“Wow,” Tony managed as he stared out over it. This was what had excited him when he’d arrived, the sparkling blue and the crisp breezes. He let his eyes fall closed and baked in it, for just a moment. 

Behind there was a click like the sound of a lock, and a squeak and then a gasp. Tony’s eyes snapped open and he turned around, coming face to face with a very surprised Steve Rogers.

“Tony!” He squeaked, slamming the gate he had obviously just opened shut reflexively as if to put a barrier between them. “What are you doing here?”

Tony could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. This was so awkward! He hadn't seen Steve since the incident with the party, though Steve had tried to see him, Tony knew. He’d just always managed to be out when he’d swung by, as Sam made sure to tell him. But here he was now, standing in front of Tony wearing the cute glasses and an oversized t-shirt, looking shocked. 

“I’m--I have a delivery! From the bakery, but I must have the wrong house.”

“Which one are you looking for?”

Tony handed him the address and Steve smiled. “This is the place. Sam must’ve sent something for me.”

That underhanded, conniving baker! Tony shoved the basket at Steve along with the note. “Guess this is for you.”

Steve took the basket and peered inside. “Wow, there’s a lot here.”

“Yup,” Tony replied, popping the ‘p’. “Sure is. Well, you have your delivery, so I’m just gonna--” He threw a thumb over his shoulder trying to seem nonchalant, but pretty sure he was overreaching and hitting super awkward instead. “So ummm...bye.”

He turned to leave but Steve’s hand shot out and grabbed his sleeve. “Wait!”

“What?”

Steve waved the note. “Says here, ‘Please enjoy this picnic, free of charge, provided you enjoy it outside and take our delivery man with you for a whole afternoon. Signed,The Baking Boys.’”

Oh good god no. This could not be happening. This was easily the most mortifying experience of his life, and yet, Steve was staring at him with a hopeful expression and Tony found himself tongue tied. 

Steve cleared his throat. “So um, can I convince you to come eat lunch with me, or do I have to start digging through my pockets for some cash?”

Tony sighed, realising he’d look ridiculous if he said no now. “Fine.”

Steve beamed, opening the gate and inviting him in. Tony stepped through, finding a well kept garden and cottage, along with a shed nestled in the corner. It was very pretty, and Tony found himself relaxing at the sight of a herb garden, filled with all the sorts his mother liked to use in her potions. 

“Welcome to Chez Rogers,” Steve announced, and then cringed. “Sorry that was cringe. Um, let me go get a blanket, we can eat out here.”

He darted off into the house, letting Tony take in the space properly. He wandered over to the herb garden, pleased by the range. He saw one plant getting a little limp, so he muttered a favourite spell of his mother’s to make it perk up. 

As he turned, something shiny caught his eye. He squinted to see something metallic in the depths of the shed. He wandered over, the thought that it might be rude to snoop overtaken by his surprise when he looked inside. 

“Wow,” he breathed. The walls were covered in pictures of fighter jets and sketches, as well as bits and pieces that were clearly prototypes. Whoever used this shed, and Tony was starting to suspect he knew exactly who, had spent a lot of time studying planes and sketching out plans for their own one. 

“Oh I thought maybe you’d left,” Steve said from behind him, looking sheepish. “But you wandered into my studio.”

“Sorry,” Tony offered, knowing it was a little presumptuous. “It’s just really great in here. I love the designs.”

“You know much about planes?”

Tony shook his head. “Not specifically. But how it all fits together, those connections? My magic makes me understand it. I can… _feel_ it.”

“That’s so cool,” Steve breathed, sounding awed. “I’ve seen you fly, it must be so great being able to do that without a machine.”

“Truth be told, I find it easier with mechanical things.” Tony trailed his hand over a small propeller. “My magic, it makes machines fulfill their purpose to the best of their ability. So, if I build something that is meant to fly, it...flies.”

Steve’s eyes were wide. “That’s incredible.”

Tony shrugged. “I have a mechanical broom at home. Flies like a dream. My parents didn’t trust it though. They think it’s too ‘modern’. So I had to use mom’s one instead.”

“I haven’t seen you flying much lately,” Steve said, looking away, and Tony raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been watching me fly?”

Steve flushed. “No! Not like that — just I would see you sometimes. That’s all.” He looked away awkwardly, and Tony felt an answering flush on his cheeks. 

“I broke my broom.” 

“What?”

“I broke my broom when I didn’t meet you for the party - I’m sorry about that by the way. I got caught in a storm and crash landed. I haven’t really had time to replace my broom, and all my magic jobs have had to be on foot, and it’s slowed me down, and I’m just….so tired.”

It all poured out, and Tony felt a relief at the release in pressure. He didn’t even realise he was shaking slightly until Steve took his hand, pulling him in for a hug. 

Tony squeaked in surprise, his arms coming up on autopilot to clutch at Steve’s thin frame. 

“I’m sorry you’re having such a rough time,” Steve said in his ear. “But you’re doing so well! I couldn’t do what you’re doing. I couldn’t even do what _I_ wanted.”

Tony could feel the echo of pain in those words and he hugged Steve tighter. It felt nice, and Steve was warm and kind, and Tony let himself enjoy the hug for a long moment until he pulled away. He pointed at the sketches on the wall. “Seems to me like you’re getting there. It’s just taking more time than expected. And with fewer people shooting at you.”

Steve blushed again. “Sam and Rhodey told you huh?”

“Just a bit.”

Steve huffed a breath, fogging up his glasses as he did. “Yeah well. I’m over that now. If the airforce won’t take me I’ll fly anyway, and I’m going to do something better with it. I’m looking at a private license: see if I can’t try my hand at dropping medical supplies to remote areas, that sort of thing.”

“That’s a great idea.”

“Thanks,” Steve smiled, seemingly honestly pleased. “Now I just have to save up to pay for it.”

He was cute, Tony thought, really cute. Pretty blue eyes, soft blond hair and his smile. His smile made him light up, and Tony had the thought that he liked being the cause of it. 

“Enough about that though. How about we eat?”

Steve laid out a colourful blanket, and unpacked the picnic basket while Tony stared out at the sea. Sam had clearly gone all out, and they had no trouble getting through it. For such a small guy, Steve could sure eat a lot. 

“What if you built a new broom?”

“Huh?”

“A new broom,” Steve repeated, accidentally smudging icing on his face in his enthusiasm. “You said you’d made one that works better than plain old wood, why not make one again?”

Tony shook his head. “I haven’t got the tools or equipment. Or the space really. I’m only just starting to get some decent money off my magic, and I can’t ask Rhodey and Sam to give up more space.”

“We could use my workshop! I have loads of spare parts, a bench for you to work at, and I know someone who can order you anything you need for cheap.”

“I guess I could. Won’t I be in your way though? Looks like you have a few projects going on.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m mostly working on my bike. Closest thing to flying I can get right now.”

Tony remembered seeing something under a tarp in the shed. “Like a motorbike?”

“Yeah! It’s a Harley-Davidson WLA Liberator! I bought it from some guy who just had it sitting in his garage gathering dust. When I fix it up, it really is going to soar!”

Tony grinned. “Ok! And hey maybe I could--” he wiggled his fingers, “give it a boost when you’re done. Free of charge.”

“That would be great.” Steve rubbed at the icing on his face and Tony laughed. 

“Here, let me--” He brushed it away, watching the heat rise in Steve’s cheeks again. “You ah, go red a lot huh?”

Somehow Steve’s face got even brighter. “Irish skin. I burn like anything.”

The sun was low in the sky by then, and Tony wondered if he should start heading home. 

Steve seemed to notice the same thing, packing the things away in the basket. “Say, do you want to go and see the airship? It’s so cool. I go by everyday. We can ride my pushbike, and I can drop you home after.”

He was having a nice time, and he wasn’t ready for it to end yet. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

* * *

“Are you sure I’m not too heavy?”

“Nope,” Steve gasped as he pedalled, sweat dripping down his forehead. He’d insisted Tony sit on the seat in front, leaving Steve to balance on the pedals. At first it had been kind of sweet. Tony had been reminded of seeing the older kids in his town carting their sweethearts around, and he’d felt an odd rush at the idea that people might see them and think the same.

But that had worn off rather quick at the sound of Steve’s heavy breathing behind him as they crawled along. 

“Really, I can walk.”

“I can do this all day.”

“Steve, come on, we’ll walk up the hill and ride down,” Tony pleaded, becoming worried Steve might actually keel over.

Steve heaved one final big breath and nodded. “Yeah ok.”

They dismounted and trudged the rest of the way up, Steve oddly subdued. He perked up though when they hit the rise and could see the field next to the shore, the dirigible floating big and bright in the distance. 

“Look at it! Isn’t it amazing?”

“It’s great,” Tony said, and it was. I mean flying was no big deal, but the mechanics of this thing were fascinating. His magic reached for it, feeling it out, and Tony could sense every thrum of its engine. “Imagine how long they take to build.”

They rode down the hill, the ride much easier this time, and by the time they were nearly under the airship, looking up, Steve was already excitedly reciting facts. He knew a lot about it, and clearly he did come to see it as often as he said, as some of the crew waved to him as they cycled past. 

“I just can’t wait to be up there,” he told Tony, shining with excitement. “Feeling the breeze, and almost feeling weightless, it’s--” he stopped and laughed. “Well, I don’t need to tell you. You know all about it.”

He did, but for all he loved to fly it was just a normal part of being a witch. Hearing Steve talk about it with such longing was such a different experience. “If I get my broom finished, maybe I can take you flying.”

Steve’s head whipped around to look at him. “Really?!”

Tony grinned. “You bet.” 

They stood looking for a time, chatting and watching the dirigible bob in the air. As the sun began to dip behind the hills and the temperature started to drop, Steve suggested they head back. The journey was easier this time, and soon he was dropping Tony off outside the bakery. 

“I’ve got work tomorrow till 4pm but if you want to come by after to work on your broom, I’ll be around,” Steve offered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That would be cool,” Tony told him, pushing the door to the bakery open. “I’ll see you then.”

He waved as Steve cycled off and then stepped inside, coming face to face with a grinning Sam.

“Good delivery?”

Tony flushed. “I think you know it was.” He crossed his arms. “I can’t believe you set me up!”

Sam smirked. “I always know best. It’s about time you learned that. Rhodey still hasn’t, but it means I get to tell him ‘I told you so’ pretty often, so I still win.”

“You do not,” Rhodey said, coming from out back. “But maybe this time you were right. You got a bit of colour back in your cheeks, Tones. I assume it went well?”

“Yeah Steve’s pretty great. He’s uh, going to help me with my broom.”

Rhodey’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

Tony replayed what he said and flushed so hard he felt dizzy. “That wasn’t innuendo!!! He just has a workshop I can use to build a new one.”

“Oh right. Well, that sounds great. And hey, just saying: you’re an adult. Whatever you and Steve get up to in that workshop is your business.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Alright, alright,” Rhodey laughed. “Guess I’m just trying to get the practice in.” He looked over at Sam who nodded. “We heard back from the adoption agency and they have a kid for us.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god! I didn’t know you guys were trying to adopt.”

Sam waved a hand. “We’ve kept it quiet. Didn’t want it to be a whole thing if we didn’t succeed, you know?  
  
“Oh sure, well congrats! That’s such great news.” He gave them both a hug, revelling in how happy they both seemed.

“Thanks. And you know what that means? Means you have to take better care of yourself so I don’t have to fret. I can’t be worrying over two kiddos at once,” Rhodey told him sternly and Tony nodded. 

“Yeah ok. I’m sorry for making you worry.” He brushed a hand through his hair. “So do you guys have any info about the kid?”

“We got sent a file. Come on, we’ll show you our little girl-to-be.”

* * *

Tony and Steve started hanging out more and more in the evenings. 

It was a little awkward at first, but eventually, they got into a rhythm. Tony would build his broom, Steve would work on his motorbike. They’d talk, listen to music. Sometimes Tony would stay for dinner with Steve and his Ma, other times they’d go into town and Steve would show him the best places to eat. And of course, the place they visited most was the dirigible. It was getting closer and closer to its maiden voyage 

Jarvis had also made friends with the neighbours’ cat, a fluffy gal called Ana, so Tony didn’t have to feel guilty about him being stuck in the workshop.

It was nice. Some nights they worked late into the night, spending more time messing around than working, and Tony found himself noticing _Steve_ more and more. 

For all he’d thought Steve was just a jerk when they’d met, it hadn’t taken him long to realise that actually, Steve was wonderful.

He was sweet, smart, funny - he liked to tease Tony, which never failed to leave them both laughing at the end - and he was talented. He could draw schematics like an expert, and he clearly had skills in design. The bike was a testament to that: Steve making modifications that had Tony impressed, planning them out in intricate detail. Tony had found him more than once brushing a hand over the bike’s frame, telling it how well it was going to do and how it was going to zoom down the streets so fast that Steve would feel like he was flying.

It turned out that he was an amazing artist too, bringing landscapes to life on paper. And when he wasn’t drawing his favourite subject - sketchbook after sketchbook full of planes and the dirigible - Tony was shocked to find Steve’s attention fixed on him. 

He’d discovered it by accident too. He’d been in the workshop alone, Steve having stepped out to deliver lunch to his Ma while she was working at the hospital. Tony had been working on a particularly tricky part of the broom, and he’d needed a tool he didn’t have. Assuming Steve might have one stored away, he’d gone through the drawers. When he opened the bottom one, he was surprised to see his own face looking up at him.

He’d pulled out the sketches in wonder, seeing himself from all different angles. There was him working, flying, helping out at the bakery. He looked so happy and bright, and magical, even though he wasn’t doing spellwork in any of them. He was sure he didn’t look like this in real life.

He was still staring at them when Steve returned, the smile on his thin face dropping as he went pale at the sight of the papers in Tony’s hand. “I can explain!”

“Explain what?” Tony asked. “How you’re this good of an artist? These are incredible.”

Steve blushed. “I’m ok I guess.”

“Ok? These are like, art gallery good. Don’t undersell it.” Tony gestured to one of them. “I think you might’ve taken a little artistic license with me though.”

Steve frowned, his embarrassment forgotten for the moment. “How so?”

“I don’t look like that, all…” he struggled for the word. “Shiny.”

“You do,” Steve disagreed. “You light up, like a flame, but from the inside. It’s hard to explain.”

Now Tony’s cheeks were the ones heating up. “My magic--”

Steve shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s just you.”

He sounded so sure that Tony couldn’t find it in him to disagree. He’d never been told he was special for something that wasn’t his magic or his family’s business. 

“Thank you,” Tony managed, feeling a little overwhelmed. 

Steve smiled. “You’re welcome. Now, what was it you were looking for?”

They ended up sitting close together at the workbench, Steve holding the broomstick steady as Tony made his adjustments. He could feel the warmth along his side and couldn’t help but lean into it. 

He couldn’t help but wish Steve would put his arm around him, maybe turn his head and --

No. Those thoughts were dangerous. Steve was his best friend here, and he couldn’t ruin it by pushing for more. Things were good, and he should be happy with what he had. No need for anything to change.

His distraction made his focus slip, and the tool went astray, making him knock over his now-cold coffee onto Steve’s shirt. 

Steve yelped, jumping to his feet and stripping off his shirt to stop it soaking through. Tony swallowed as an expanse of skin and wiry muscle was revealed. 

His hand drifted up to touch without thought, and he snatched it back before Steve’s head popped free of his clothes. 

Yup, this was the right choice, definitely. And if he kept saying it, he’d believe it, he was sure.

* * *

When it happened, Tony wasn’t there.

He’d been on a job, fixing a broken-down car on the other side of town. The owner, retired Colonel Phillips, had been grumpy, and assumed he knew better, though Tony didn’t see _him_ using any spells. He’d just finished, cleaning off oil he’d gotten on his hands when he’d had to reach in and actually physically remove a loose part so his magic could do its thing in the Colonel’s kitchen, when there was a shout from the living room.

He peeked around the door to see the man and his family crowded around the TV.

“What’s going on?”

The Colonel waved him over. “Come see. That damn flying ship they got down at port is losing its mind.”

Tony raised a confused brow but moved closer to see. Oh, he understood what the guy meant. The dirigible was caught in the strong winds, thrashing against its ropes. There were scores of people trying to hold it in place. There were also a lot of stressed-looking higher-ups pointing up at it, and Tony could sympathise. Launch Day was tomorrow - something Tony knew because Steve wouldn’t shut up about it - so having it go wrong this close must be a nightmare. 

“You can see the ropes straining at the posts, and the ground crew is trying to secure them,” the reporter’s voice said over top. “It’s being battered by the gusts, and if you see there--” the camera zoomed in on the cockpit, “we can see the crew in the cockpit are looking very nervous.”

“I knew that damn airship was nothing but trouble,” Phillips grumbled. “What’s wrong with a sensible plane or a damn truck?”

Tony kept his mouth shut, the speech Steve gave any time anyone asked about the dirigible sitting on his tongue. He’d definitely absorbed way too much airship info. 

“The lines have snapped!” The reporter yelped, clearly taken by surprise. The wind is taking the dirigible up into the air. Oh! There’s one rope still in place!”

Tony watched as the dirigible tipped, the back end riding until the whole thing was vertical. It would be almost comical, if it weren’t so clearly a disaster. 

The reporter continued their commentary, but all Tony could focus on was the huge group of people trying to hold the last rope. The ship was hit by another gust, and it was clearly too much, the ship pulling free, and the rope slipping the grip of all the ground crew.

Then Tony’s stomach dropped. Because not everyone had let go.

“Steve!”

Colonel Phillips grunted. “What’s that damn fool doing? He’ll get himself killed!”

The ship rose in the air, carrying Steve with it, clinging to the rope with visible effort. Because of course he was there. He was always there, and if anything went wrong he was always going to be the first to step in and help because he was a stupid brave idiot. Dammit. Steve swang with the wind, and with each movement Tony felt panicked nausea rise his throat. 

“I have to go!”He didn’t wait for a response before he was out the door, sprinting towards Steve’s house. He had to be in pain, he was sure of it, because he wasn’t fit, but he didn’t even notice, slamming into the workshop and grabbing the still unfinished broom off the workbench. 

“You better work or I’m donating you to a school janitor!” He told it as he rushed outside, mounting it quickly. He focused his breathing, letting the magic flow through him and into the metal insides of the broom. “Come on, you--”

He shot into the air, whooping as he swooped through the air faster than his old broom. “Fuck yes!” 

He could see the dirigible in the distance, and he tilted the broom towards, the steering easy and effortless. 

It had travelled a distance now, moving higher and higher as it passed over the city. He moved in closer, and to his relief could still see Steve gripping the end tightly. He flew forward making a beeline for it.

“Steve!” he shouted as he got closer, and when Steve’s head snapped to look at him, all he could see was relief. 

“Tony!”

“Let me--” Tony flew closer, reaching out a hand.

“Look out!” 

Tony only had a second to see the spire on the town hall and pulled up sharply as it passed between them, Steve sliding over the roof as he was dragged over it. Tony gave a thought to his poor skin but could do nothing until he was free of the building.

He followed quickly, buffeted by the wind. The new broom was good, but the winds were strong, trying to shove him off course. He pushed forward, trying to get to Steve, one gust ending him into a spin. He pulled out of it, hearing Steve’s concerned calls. 

“Come on baby, you can do it,” he told the broom, and he could feel it trying to overcome the forces working against them. 

Crowds were gathering, pointing up, but Tony tried to ignore them. All that mattered was Steve. 

Steve was hit by another squall, the wind making him slip until he was left gripping tightly to the very end. Tony could see the strain in his arms, and he swooped in, making another go for Steve’s hand. 

“Take my hand,” he said, reaching out, and he could see Steve was reluctant to relax any of his grip. “I’ll save you, I promise.”

Steve nodded, gritting his teeth and stretching out a hand. They were over the town square now, and as Tony leaned forward to grab him, the dirigible slammed into the town clock tower, coming to a shuddering halt. Tony was almost relieved, but the force of it travelled down the rope, and Steve, only attached by one frantic grip, slid free. 

Tony didn’t even think. It was as if he and the broom were one, swan diving down, faster and faster, his hand reaching out and his heart pounding in his ears. He could hear Steve’s scream, and he closed his eyes, letting his magic focus until it found the watch on Steve’s wrist. His hand snapped out, curling around the thin arm and holding tight, as he pulled up, trying to save them both from the ground rushing up to meet them and--

The pull of gravity shifted, and they soared up, almost hitting a nearby building as they did, and crashing to the ground in an untidy heap. It hurt, but nowhere near as much as hitting the ground properly would’ve. Tony rolled to his knees, eyes flicking around frantically for Steve until they landed on him a few feet away. “Steve!”

Had what he had done been enough? He scrambled over, his hands passing over Steve’s body as he checked for injuries. “Steve, are you--”

“Ow,” Steve managed, but it sounded clear and strong, and Tony breathed a sigh of relief as he looked down at him, his glasses wonky but undamaged on his face. “The ground hurts.”

“Yeah it does,” Tony agreed, a grin stretching across his face. He blinked back relieved tears as ran his fingers absentmindedly through Steve’s hair, unconsciously checking for bumps. “I think it would’ve hurt even more without the broom.”

Steve looked up at him. “You saved me.” His voice sounded surprised, almost wondrous and Tony scowled. 

“Of course I did! You think I’d see you in trouble and not drop everything to come over here and--” His rant was cut off as Steve hauled him down by his robes, kissing him soundly. 

Tony could feel his cheeks heat even as he kissed back, all the want he’d been feeling for the last few months rising in his chest and pushing him forward to tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair and hold him close. 

He got a little lost in the kiss, truth be told, because it wasn’t until someone tapped him on the shoulder that he came up for air. 

“Hmmm?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sarah Rogers said, looking worried but amused. She was still in her scrubs, having clearly run over from the hospital. “I just wanted to make sure my son hadn’t rattled his brains while he was out playing superhero.”

Tony snorted, but moved out of the way, letting her check on him. He got to his feet, grabbing his broom which had snapped in half on impact. He winced but gave it a pat. “Good job, bud. You did what I needed. I promise, your next upgrade will be even better.”

He was still holding it when two arms wrapped around his waist and he was hoisted into the air. 

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” Rhodey babbled into his ear. “What the actual fuck were you thinking?”

Tony relaxed, grinning. “Being awesome and saving Steve. Just a usual day.”

“You just shaved ten years off my life kid, and I need those.”

“Sorry, but also not sorry, since Steve is ok,” Tony told him, and Rhodey nodded.

“Fair enough. Jesus, that was terrifying.”

“How did you even see it? I thought you were--”

“Oh my god!” Sam’s voice came from behind them, and they twisted to see Sam shoving through the crowd. As he got closer, Tony realised that there was something new about him.

“Is that a toddler on your hip?”

“Yeah!” Sam said, looking pleased as punch over his panic. “We went to get her early. I didn’t realise her first experience was going to be seeing you plummeting out of the sky, but you know what maybe this is for the best. Prepare her early.”

Tony looked at the little girl, her dark hair in two loose braids and a chubby fist in her mouth. Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t look scared despite the bustling crowd around them. She took everything in curiously, her dark eyes drawn swiftly to the broom in Tony’s hand. 

Tony grinned. “I think she’ll fit right in.”

Rhodey put him down, reaching out to take the kid - “Riri,” Sam told him -- and Tony smiled at how proud the two men looked as he accepted praise from the townsfolk cheering around them. 

There were lots of job offers and suggestions that he be given some sort of plaque for heroism. It was a little embarrassing to be honest, though the feeling of being so fully accepted by his town and feeling like he was succeeding in his Witch’s Journey felt nice, and he let himself bask in it.

Just as it was getting to be too much, Steve got free of his Ma’s ministrations and came over, wrapping a hand around Tony’s wrist. “Want to get out of here?”

Tony nodded in relief, but couldn’t help feeling a little bold. “Could there be more kissing if we do?”

Steve’s cheeks reddened slightly, but he smiled and nodded. “I sure hope so.”

He let Steve lead him through the crowd and to the road that would leave to Steve’s house, breathing in the now-familiar sea breeze.

It felt like coming home.

* * *

“Here she is, all finished and shiny, and isn’t she great?”

Tony looked at the bike, along with Steve’s proud grin and the brown leather jacket he’d clearly bought for riding, parked in the backyard of the bakery. It was a pretty hot image he had to say. 

“Not as great as her rider, but not bad,” Tony shot back, only making Steve smile wider. He stepped forward, running his hand down the jacket. “I like this, where have you been hiding it?”

Steve’s eyes went wide as he caught the shift in Tony’s voice. “Figured it would be a surprise. Does it look good?”

“It looks good, really good actually. Maybe later you could take me upstairs and--”

“Steve! Is the bike done?” Sam called, coming out of the bakery. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, clearing his throat a little and looking over to Sam. “All done. Finally.”

“It looks great, how’s it handle?”

“Amazing! I rode it over here to test it, and it was great.” He looked at Tony. “But I bet with a little boost she could be even better.”

“Uh-huh, so that’s why you’ve come over. And here I thought it was to see little old me,” Tony complained, not dropping the act until Steve gave him a kiss.

“I’m always here to see you,” Steve grinned. “Just this time I’m also here to visit the All-Powerful Witch of the Machines.”

“Never say that again: that title is so dumb. I can’t believe that became a thing. Who told the Mayor it was a good idea?” Tony suspected it was Rhodey, though he didn’t have the proof - yet - and? Sam’s casual whistle didn’t help.

“Please?”

“Fine, let me see what I can do.”

He rolled up the sleeves of his robe, putting his hands on the bike, and letting the magic pulse through the frame and through the engine. He imbued it slightly with his worry for Steve’s safety when riding, and he could feel the magic give a positive response as he did so, leaving him relieved. Whatever happened, this bike wouldn’t be a threat to Steve. 

He felt the last piece click into place and stepped back. “All done. She should run like a breeze.”

Steve mounted it excitedly, revving the engine. “She’s purring like a cat, so smooth.” Jarvis meowed from the stairwell, and Steve laughed. “Well, like a Jarvis I guess.”

“Go try her out.”

Steve revved again and started forward, his feet lifting up as he pulled out of the driveway, and then between one blink and the next, as Steve nudged the accelerator, the bike went from rolling down the street to zooming into the air and up into the sky.

“What the fuck?” Tony yelped, grabbing the Mach Two from where it leaned against the wall, Jarvis leaping into his robes and clinging on as they shot after Steve, catching him before he reached the clouds. “Hit the brakes Steve!”

Steve slammed them on, the bike coming to a halt and floating in mid-air, and Tony sighed in relief.

Steve looked at him eyes wide. “Holy shit! How—did you plan this?”

Tony shook his head, the shock still fading. “No! I just meant to give it a little boost, it’s just meant to-“ he stopped, the realisation sweeping over him. And then he began to laugh. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Steve asked, still clinging to the bike, his face a mix of terror and excitement.

“My magic,” Tony snorted. “The way my magic works. It makes things do what they’re made for to the best of their ability. And you Steve Rogers have been going on and on about how that thing was going to make you fly! You didn’t build a bike, you built a flying machine, and my magic knew it.” He laughed again, almost unable to believe it. 

Steve’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god!” He looked down at the bike, his grin widening till it almost split his face. “You’re amazing.”

He grabbed for Tony, clearly forgetting for a moment where they were and leaned too far, making Tony jump forward to grab him, his hands twisted in Steve’s leather jacket. “Be careful!”

“Sorry, I just needed--” And then his lips were on Tony’s. Tony smiled into it, even as he had to tilt the broom to stop them both from falling. 

There was a shout from below and they broke apart to see Rhodey and Sam pointing up at them, little Riri balanced on Rhodey’s shoulders and shrieking with joy as she pointed at them.

Tony bumped his head against Steve’s. “Want to see how fast it can go?”

Steve grinned, giving the bike a rev. “Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! - if you'd like to leave a comment but don't know what to say, I love emojis!!! ❤️
> 
> Come say hi! Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BladeoftheNebu1)/[Tumblr](https://bladeofthenebula27.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Join the [Put on the Suit (18+) server](https://discord.gg/z5WSqbS) over on discord to hang out with fellow stony fans! It’s a super welcoming community and we have a lot of fun ♥️


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